


Matutinal

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [64]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, and yes another proposal, fluffier than should be legal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5439356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>matutinal: adjective: məˈt(y)o͞otn-əl,ˌmaCHəˈtīnl: of or occurring in the morning</p><p>mid 16th century: from late Latin matutinalis, from Latin matutinus ‘early.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matutinal

Ever since he and John had started 'sleeping' together, he found he was actually sleeping more, since there was something about having John there next to him, pressed up against his back, one arm draped around his waist, a strong leg entrapping his, that made him want to sleep for hours. As a result, he was discovering he now appreciated the matutinal aspects of the day, which had gone unnoticed previously, since he would have been buried in casework or an experiment if he hadn't been passed out from pure exhaustion. He would carefully extricate himself from John, fondly kiss him just enough, not to awaken, merely to remind himself how lucky he was and make himself a cup of tea. He would stand at the window, and watch his London wake up in bits of light, he supposed, if he were a poet, it was as if a curtain was slowly rising...

Today was different, it was Christmas Day, which in the past meant less than nothing to him, now, he felt like a kid, or at least what he assumed an average kid would feel like; he quietly bounced from bed, and after turning on the kettle, seated himself crisscross applesauce in front of the tree, shaking the small red box. Then the bigger silver one...and he wondered what the weirdly shaped, badly wrapped one was...

"Morning, love." John bent down and kissed the mop of curls, then placed a mug of tea in his hands. "Happy Christmas."

"Oh, John, I didn't mean to wake you up, I'm sorry, I just-"

"No worries, sweet, I know." John finished his tea, then sat on the floor behind Sherlock and snuggled around him. Sherlock sighed and leaned back into the warmth of John's arms, quietly feeling John's heartbeat and breathing surround him, cocooning him, he thought.

"You do realize, of course, every day I wake up next to you is Christmas, I don't need all the bows and glitter-"

John laughed. "Okay, we can take all the stuff back, though you may want to open that little red one first."

Sherlock reached for the box, a slight quiver in his hand; for once, John had successfully kept a secret from him. He closed his eyes and took a breath as he opened it.

John seemed to be holding his breath as well, until he blew it out and whispered, "I know it's corny and sentimental to do this today, but, will you, uhm, do me the honour of marrying me, Sherlock Holmes?"

For once he found himself truly speechless. He turned to face his friend, lover and partner in all things and simply nodded. In the box, once he actually looked in it, wasn't a ring, but a miniature version of the skull, handcrafted in silver, a token that he could wear on a chain over his heart-

"Jeweler friend owed me a favour, from my RAMC days-"

No more words were spoken for the next two hours, and when Mrs. Hudson gently opened the door to the flat to deliver a freshly baked batch of biscuits, she found them cuddled together on the couch; Sherlock, wide awake, his long arms wrapped around his snoring, deeply asleep blogger.

"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Hudson," he whispered.

"Happy Christmas, Sherlock," she smiled softly at him, placed the biscuits on table and let herself out of the flat.


End file.
